It was almost two in the morning, and the Xavier Institute was silent and still. Except a light that was on in Jean's room. She was outside it and the chink of light illuminated her face
Jean sat against the wall, blinking rapidly as people do when trying not to cry. Rogue, who was creeping along in the darkness almost ran into her as she headed down the hall. "What are ya doin'?" Rogue snapped. Seeing the look on Jean's face, she stopped. "What's wrang?" Jean rubbed her eyes before the tears could fall. "Bad dreams."
"Need tah talk?" Rogue slid down the wall next to her. "Ah knaw ya'd rather talk tah Scott, but if ya need it…"
Jean let her head drop forward. "You're right. I would usually talk to Scott. But when the nightmares about him…"
They lasped into silence for a moment. "He didn't have eyes." Jean croaked.
"Pardan?" Rogue raised her eyebrows.
"We were just at school, and when he came to see me, I looked at him, and he didn't have irises. Just a white eye. Said it was the only way he could be free."
Rogue patted Jean's leg gently. "He has eyes. I saw them, just once." She swallowed for a moment. "Blue. Imagine the color of freshly purchased denim jeans, a rich blue, without the threads running through it. That's what color they are. With or without the lasers, he has some of the most beautiful eyes I know of."
"How so?" Jean sounded curious, the images from her nightmare fading with this new idea.
Rogue hesitated a moment. "The eyes I saw were beautiful. If he wasn't already good looking, the eyes would have every girl in school batty over him. But his eyes they way they are? They've saved our lives. More than once. If he didn't have those eyes, we'd both probably be dead."
Jean headed downstairs one morning and found Scott already chowing through a banana. "Why are you up early?" He threw away his empty peel. "I woke up this morning a bit suddenly. Kitty went through my ceiling this morning, fell onto my bed. And if that wasn't awkward enough, she kicked my chin up, with her foot, when I woke up. I put a hole through my ceiling before I could stop myself."
"Are you okay?" She asked, cracking eggs into a pan. He turned around to face her, angry. "Am I okay? I could have killed Kitty! What about Spyke? He's right across from my room. What if that had gone through my door? Or a gas line? Jean, what if that happened again? I could kill off everyone here without meaning to." He sat down at the table, clenching a glass of milk. "Sometimes I wish I was normal." He muttered.
She pulled off the eggs, and sat down next to him, tracing lines on his back. "Scott? Will you listen to me?" He looked up, face drawn. "Scott, if Professor thought you were that much of a risk, you'd sleep in the Danger Room. But we all believe you have the self control it would take to not hurt us. And besides, it's taught you responsibility. Unlike guys at school, you know better than to try and look good by doing dangerous stuff in a car or anywhere else. You know the price of risk. It's what makes you such a good leader."
He looked up from his glass. "Thanks. It's just that I worry so much."
"I know. And I'm grateful that you do. I l-like you just the way you are." she stuttered, the word "love"still unspoken in her mouth. Not yet.
He smiled, gripping her hand. "Thank you so much Jean. It's wonderful to know I can count on you."
"Those true eyesToo pure and too honest in aught to disguiseThe sweet soul shining through them" - Owen Meredith